Mass at Mont St. Michel, Bretagne's Walled Cities, Megaliths, Morbihan, Merlin, and a Medieval Castle

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Sunday, July 26
Mont St. Michel, Menhir du Champ-Dolent, and St. Jacques-de-la-Lande
When we returned at night to our room, we are assailed by the fragrance of the cheese we had bought at the market in Bayeux. Since we have a wide windowsill, we promptly left the bag outside on the sill for the night. Breakfast is served from 8:15-9:30. Again, our hosts have been thoughtful for Jackie, and have fresh fruit, soft farmer cheese and yogurt for her. The cheese and yogurt was actually “artisian” made by their neighbor who has a dairy farm. We have baguettes, homemade brioche, and homemade apple and apricot jams, too. We have a table for four to ourselves.
The other guests are all down for breakfast by the time we return to our room. The French conversation is lively. I catch a phrase here and there, but Jackie understands, and laughs often. I never did have time to ask her what it was all about, though.
M. Descampes gives us a simplified description of their farming operation. (They raise escargot!) Between his pictures, animated facial expressions and hand gestures, we understand the process. After breakfast, we left for Mont St. Michel for Mass.
We entered Mont St. Michel by the upper door. (Now that we know where it is- they only open it during high tide hours, which it is now.) Dean and I opt to enter the abbey and take the audio tour, which we missed last night, followed by Mass at 11:30. The kids have had enough of touring the abbey; so they attended Mass lower on the hill in town at St Pierre “the little church”. We agreed to meet after Mass in the park where we had eaten lunch yesterday. (We figured sometime no later than 1:00.)
We climbed the ramparts, purchased our tickets and began the tour. It’s too bad we did not have the audio guides yesterday; they added so much to understanding the significance of what we were seeing. By 11:10, we have seen several of the rooms, so we doubled back for Mass to be sure we had a bench (no pews or kneelers, just wooden benches) to sit on. We sat on one of the front benches near a wooden statue of St. Michael and watched as the nuns and monks prepared the altar. When they were done, they each brought in a prayer rug and a small rectangular wooden stool- when they knelt, this would go under their robe- then they could rest back on it when the congregation was sitting.
Two groups of young people- we think they were the French counterparts of Eagle and Upper-rank Girl Scouts entered and were escorted to benches on either side of the altar. One of each remained standing through the entire Mass with their standard. At 11:27, a monk pulled repeatedly on the bell rope, and the bell high above in the tower sounded out, calling people to Mass. The priest entered, preceded by a monk gently swinging a censer (that’s what you call the incense holder, I think- am I right, Mom?). By the time all the procession is on the altar, the sanctuary is filled with incense. The sunlight that streamed in through the windows added to the atmosphere.
The Mass was entirely in French (of course), but we had a sheet and we tried to follow along as best we could. It was a high Mass, entirely sung, and we have found that it always takes a few more words to say the same thing in French than we would say in English, so it is 1:00 (13:00, European time) when the priest gave the final benediction! Needless to say, we do not have time to listen to the audio-guides for the rooms we’ve missed on the way down. As we walked through the rooms, we listened to as much as possible, but do not stop. We exited past the tightly-packed line waiting to buy tickets- it goes all the way down the steep stairs- a reason to come early (or late, as we did last night).
The kids Mass began at 11:00, not 11:30, so we knew that they’d be waiting. Sure enough, when they saw us approaching and were raring to go. Most people are walking toward us, so it is slow going down through the streets- the ramparts would have been faster. We drove back to the B&B, picked up our luggage and a bottle of Calvados, which was produced by another neighbor of the Descampes’, and then we were on our way.
With ¼ of a tank, we stopped for gas, but it’s Sunday, and the station was an “automatique”. It rejected our bankcard, so we had find another station a few miles down the road. Dean had to negotiate with the large gas station dog before paying, and Jeff crossed the street to a boulangerie for a baguette for the road.
Rather than going directly to our next exchange home, we drove a long the coast for a while. Mont St. Michel is visible over the fields for miles. We stopped near some windmills on the reclaimed fields overlooking the bay- the old-fashioned kind (unlike those towers of white metal in Normandy’s fields near Veules). Two have been converted to homes, and one was for sale. Interested?
We skipped the Garlic festival in a neighboring town, and headed for Mont Dol, the legendary site of the battle between St. Michael and Satan. Its rocky summit still bears scratches form the devil’s claws. Unfortunately, we could see it, but we were unable to find a way to get to it (park and/or climb). So we drove on to see the Menhir du Champ-Dolent. This menhir is large granite stone, that is standing on its end, and is 31 feet high. It is the tallest of Brittany’s Menhir stones. Legend is that it fell from the heavens to separate 2 warring brothers. Standing alone in the middle of a field, it is a tall, rounded column with a single boulder at its base, and another lying several yards away.
After that, we drove directly to our home. Fabienne’s house was in St. Jacques-de-la-Lande, a suburb of Rennes, the capitol of Brittany. We found the home with no trouble, and the key was she said it would be. Like Dublin, it was a row house. We entered on the ground floor near the garage and office, and ascended stairs to the kitchen, living area, and one bedroom. The top floor had 2 bedrooms with a large bath. It was bright, airy and welcoming. Fabienne had even had a neighbor put some food in the fridge for us. Giselle stopped in with some plums from her garden, and there were apricots on the tree in Fabienne’s yard. We knew that we would like it here. We spent the evening settling in. Dean and I went for a walk and the kids relaxed. The last two days have been sunny, but the clouds were now rolling in. We hoped that we would be lucky, and only have rain at night!

Monday, July 27-Rennes
The pool does not open until noon today, and since Dean has not been in water (other than rain) for a few days, we opt to let the kids sleep, and start our day at noon. They bring their books in the car, and relax while Dean swims. From the pool, we drive into Centre Ville, the old part of Rennes, to explore. We see St. Saveur, the church where Faure was organist, and Notre-Dame, which has the remains of St. Melaine. He was beloved of 2 towns. When he died, they vied for his remains. Finally, they put his body on a small boat, agreeing that wherever it beached would be his home. Miraculously, it floated UPSTREAM to Rennes so here he lies. The prettiest part of the town was the garden behind Notre Dame. Combine the Epcot Flower Festival, Elizabeth Park Rose Garden, and any others you can think of- voila!
After the gardens, we tried to find a café, but because as it was 3:00 pm most were closed. Those that were open were very expensive so we went to the supermarket instead. Forgetting that you have to pay for bags when you shop in France, we found four boxes and used them to carry with our provisions to the car. At home, Jeff and Jackie were the chefs, and we dined on sautéed veggies, beefsteak, and a bottle Bordeaux that cost only 3 euro that was excellent. For dessert, we had fruit and cheese, and a few biscuits.

Tuesday, July 28-Dinan and St. Malo
Dean drives himself to the pool, I do laundry, and the kids sleep until 10. We are all ready to leave for our Medieval adventure day when Dean returns. We are visiting 2 walled cities, Dinan and St. Malo. Dinan, which escaped any bombing damage in WWII, has most of its walls and medieval buildings intact. We walked around the town, through narrow streets, and Jackie and Jeff climbed the clock tower- all 190+stairs, and a ladder. We descended a cobblestone lane lined with original shop buildings, smaller first floors, with successively larger upper floors (because you were taxed on the footage of your GROUND floor only). The upper floors loom out over the street.
After passing through the town gate at the foot or lower portion of the town, we chose not to continue our descent into the port, but to climb and walk the battlements. We had views of the Rance River, the upper and lower town, and the surrounding valley. The church, St. Malo, is asymmetrical because they ran out of money. There are arches and a nave to one side of the center, but only a wall on the other!
We drive through the Old Port and along the Rance River to St. Malo, a walled city on the coast that is reputed to have had a love/hate relationship with pirates. It is mobbed, and we have trouble parking. I even navigate the narrow streets in hopes of a street spot, to no avail. We do get to see that there are a plethora of restaurants, cafes, and hotels, though. We are ready to leave when we finally find a spot at a nearby marina.
We walk through the city gates, and, having seen the streets already, climb the walls to walk the ramparts, which have been restored to encircle the entire old town. (Allied bombing in WW II had damaged this town.) This makes the parking hassle worth it. From the ramparts, we have views of the marinas, distant shores, beaches at low tide, and crashing surf. There are 2 military forts on rocky points outside the walls, four towers, and a spectacular beach. No wonder it was crowded! This is the first warm sunny day in a while, and everyone, tourists and locals, were there to go to the beach. There is a 3-sided sea wall that is submerged at high tide. When the tide recedes, it leaves a saltwater swimming pool complete with diving board- we had never seen anything like it. It is dinnertime, so when we descend and walk the beach, rather than climb back up, we walk around the walls and find a café. An unusual band (trumpet, String bass, Baritone, and drum set consisting of a snare drum and a suitcase/bass drum serenade from the street while Dean and Jackie have mussels and Jeff and I order galettes. We drive home tired and full.

Wednesday morning, July 29-Carnac, Quiberon, Gulf of Morbihan, and Vannes
We wake early to travel to Carnac, where there are concentrations of standing stones (menhirs). We pack our lunch, and leave at 7:45 in order to be in time for the one English tour at 10:00. Again the GPS gets us where we ask, but the visitor center is not in the town center, so we need to ask directions. We feel our way back to it in time to buy tickets, and have a quick look around the center. We can see the rows of stones through a fence, but they only allow 100 people a day to go inside the fence. In the past, when people wandered freely, the ground wore down to the point where some of the stones were in danger of falling; a good enough reason, I guess. That being said, the only advantage of taking the English-speaking tour is walking near the stones. Our guide is well meaning, but tells us nothing that we did not already know from reading the visitor center displays.
The stones are granite, and were set in alignment sometime between 4800-4500 BC. Our guide’s English is proficient, but far from fluent (think of me giving a tour in French). After the tour, we drive slowly past the other alignments (There are a total of 6,000 stones between them in three major fields and some scattered smaller sites). Dolmens seem to be around every corner, and we stop at a passage tomb. Our guide had said it was the longest in Brittany. Having been to Newgrange and Knowth, it is a bit of a disappointment. We decide to leave the megaliths and head for the shore.
We drive down the Quiberon peninsula and stop at an overlook to see beaches and crashing waves of the “savage coast”. The GPS isn’t cooperating to locate the other waypoints, so we give up and head to Arradon, an exclusive point on the Gulf of Morbihan, an inland sea/bay created over 9,000 years ago thanks to global warming. We drive between tall ivy-clad walls that hide the large houses that line both shores of narrow spit of land, and park in the marina so we can walk to the point. We walk along the road, peeking into the yards, and return to the marina by a narrow stone walkway along the sea, which takes us near the waves, boats, and islands.
After this, we drove to Vannes, another walled city, which paled in comparison to Dinan and St. Malo, but it did have a lovely church and a moat. The north walls are still intact, and we had a nice view of the formal gardens. By now, it is 4, and we are all tired, so we drive home for dinner and a relaxing evening. We try Breton Apple Cider and Pear Cider with our meal. They are drier than Bulmer’s, but very good.
Well, finally up to date! Tomorrow, we hope to see Fougeres, Vitre, and possibly the Forest of Broceliande, of Arthurian legend, and pack and clean up to be ready to move on to the Loire valley on Friday. It is hard to believe that we have been gone a month and that Jackie will be flying home a week from tomorrow for the Hartt Band Institute.

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